


Summers and Falls

by melissaeverdeen13



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 08:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12502800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melissaeverdeen13/pseuds/melissaeverdeen13
Summary: They met for the first time at summer camp when they were sixteen. Now, they're residents at the same hospital. They hated each other back then and they hate each other now, but with hate comes electricity. What will they make of it?





	Summers and Falls

**APRIL**

**SUMMER**

“How come April gets to go to sleepaway camp and I don’t?” 

I look over my shoulder at my little sister from the front seat, then back out the windshield where I can see the campground coming into view. I get a jumpy feeling in my gut when I see the sign that reads:  _ Welcome, Future Surgeons! _

“This is educational camp,” my mom informs Alice. 

“So, like school?” she asks. 

I look back at her again. She’s nine years old to my sixteen, but undoubtedly the sister I’m closest to. Which is the whole reason why she chose to ride with us here today. 

“Kind of,” I say. “I hope I learn a lot.” 

“You will,” Mom says, pulling up the dirt path and parking the car. “Come on, Alice. Help April get her bags and we’ll walk her to her cabin.” 

I haul my biggest suitcase, Mom carries my toiletry bag, and Alice grapples with my pillows as we make our way to Cabin E, the last girls’ cabin. When we push open the door, the cabin is empty but with luggage on three of the four beds. The only one open is the top bunk to the left, which I’m fine with. I was hoping for a top bunk, anyway. 

“Are you gonna be okay here, Duckie?” Mom asks.

“Mom…” I groan. “Don’t call me that here.”

She places her hands on my shoulders. “I’m sorry, Miss April Kepner,” she says, a glint in her eye. “But, tell me. Are you going to be okay?” 

“Yes, mama,” I say, giving her a tight hug. I’ll be gone for a month - the longest I’ve ever been away from home. But like I said, I have high hopes that I’ll make new friends and learn about my dream career. I’ve never been around so many people who share the same interests as me. Maybe, for once, I’ll fit in.

That prospect alone is exciting enough.

“Call once a week,” she says. “And write, if you can.” 

“Please, write!” Alice says, jumping up and down. 

“I’ll try,” I say, and give my sister a big hug. “Be good, Al.” 

She rolls her eyes playfully. “I always am…” 

“I know,” I say. “But extra, since I’m not there. Don’t let Kimmie and Lib get away with any of their normal stuff.”

“I promise I won’t,” she says, beaming.

“Alright,” Mom says, wrapping an arm around her youngest daughter. “We’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Bye, guys,” I say, waving from the front stoop as they walk back to the car. “Don’t miss me too much.” 

“We will!” Alice calls back, as she climbs into the back seat. 

After the car drives away, I retreat back into the cabin and ascend the ladder to my bed. I flop down on the hard, unforgiving mattress and stare at the ceiling with my hands folded over my ribs. The trip here was long, and I’m tired from traveling. I don’t think dinner will be for a while, and I’m tempted to take a nap until I hear the sound of people coming in. 

I prop myself up on an elbow and look down, spotting a girl with brown hair in two long braids getting in the bunk right below mine. On the opposite beds are two girls with blonde hair - one in a ponytail and the other down in waves. 

“Hey, bunkie,” the girl with two braids says, peering up to look at me. “I’m Lexie.” 

I smile at her. Her eyes are warm and kind. 

“April,” I say. 

The other two introduce themselves, too. The girl in the ponytail is Izzie and the other is Arizona. No one knew each other prior to this, which comforts me slightly. That means that there aren’t any pre-formed friend groups that I’ll be left out of. We have a chance to start something fresh. 

“You know, we’re in the cabin closest to the boys,” Izzie says, her top bunk right across from mine. Her eyes are alight with interest. “I already saw one that I thought was really cute.” 

“Please tell me you didn’t come here to freak out over guys,” Arizona says, rolling onto her side. 

“I’m not some dumb bimbo,” Izzie says. “I’m just saying, I have eyes.” 

“I have a boyfriend back home,” Lexie says. “He’s older. We’re in love.” 

I snicker to myself, which draws their attention to me. 

“Got a boyfriend, April?” Izzie asks, cheek resting on her closed fist. 

“Me?” I ask. “Oh, no.” 

Arizona snorts. “Why say it like that?” 

“I don’t know,” I say. “I don’t really think about boys. Probably because they don’t think about me. I’m just here to learn cool stuff and make new friends.”

I feel Lexie’s feet push on the bottom of my mattress. “You’re halfway there,” she says, a smile in her voice. 

If possible, I’m even more excited than before. Girls back home don’t like me. They call me weird, a suck-up, a know-it-all, just because I get good grades and enjoy going to school. I’ve known everyone there for my whole life, and they still make fun of me for the lisp I dropped in first grade. It’s so old. So, being around new people is a breath of fresh air. 

\- - - -

The four of us stick together when we head to the mess hall that night. The food isn’t that great, but I barely notice because of how much they make me laugh while we eat it. 

After dinner, everyone heads to the bonfire. On our way there, we hear a big commotion from behind and look to see boys pushing and shoving each other while laughing and roughhousing. 

“So stupid,” Arizona says, rolling her eyes. 

It’s easy to pick out who the ring leader is. He’s tall with a medium complexion, green eyes that stand out even in the low light of the evening. His smile is blinding. 

“You don’t want him,” Lexie assures me, which makes my eyes flit away. “That’s Jackson Avery.”

My eyes widen. The campground we’re at right now is called Avery Campground. 

“His family…?” 

“Yep. Owns the place.” 

My face screws up with confusion. “Then why is he here? He’s basically already secured a spot in any college he wants.”

She shrugs. “Bored, I guess.” 

He lets out a loud whoop as he pumps his fist in the air, one arm wrapped around his friend’s neck as they gallop towards the fire. 

“He doesn’t seem very smart,” I say. 

“Oh, he is,” Izzie says. “And he’ll let you know it, too.” She sighs. “Smart and sexy.” 

“Is he the guy you saw earlier?” I ask. 

“Jackson?” she says. “No. No, no. He’s not my type. I’m into the more tortured, kicked puppy type. But they pretend they’re all badass and stuff. Yeah, the guy I’m talking about is right there, the one with the brown hair?”

I follow her pointed finger and see the boy she’s talking about a few people down from Jackson, laughing at his joke. He’s cute enough.

“I think his name’s Alex,” Arizona says. 

“Alex,” Izzie says. “I like that.” 

We all gather around the bonfire with sticks and marshmallows, and our camp leader, Mr. Webber, stands in the middle and gives us the rundown of camp rules. Basically, no getting physical with other campers, no boys in girls’ cabins or vice versa, no electronics, only swim when supervised, and always use the buddy system. 

“Now, we’re going to play a little bit of an icebreaker game,” Mr. Webber says. “I want you to find someone not in your cabin - male or female - whose last name starts with the letter of your first name, or vice versa.” 

I groan to myself. I hate these kinds of games. I’m pretty sure there’s no one in the world who actually enjoys them.

I glance at the nametags of people surrounding me, pushing my way through the crowd to find someone with a last name that starts with ‘A.’

“Hey, you,” I hear. “Hey, redhead.” 

I touch my hair self-consciously, flipping around to follow the voice. I’m surprised to see that it’s the boy we’d just been talking about. “Yeah?” I say. 

He points to his nametag, then to mine. “Avery. You’re April. So, I guess we can do this.”

“Oh, sure,” I say, and we sit next to each other on a log close to the fire. 

Once everyone is paired up, Mr. Webber stands again. “Tell that person a little bit about yourself. Where you’re from, what your hobbies are, your background. Then, your dreams for the future. Why are you here? What do you plan on getting out of this? Let them get to know you. Open up, don’t be shy.”

Yeah, don’t be shy. It’s basically going to be impossible not to be shy with Jackson’s green eyes staring at me. More like through me.

“Well, I’m obviously Jackson Avery,” he begins, starting without even consulting me first. I frown a little bit, but let him continue. “I’m from Boston, born and raised. Uh… I’m sixteen, I’m about to have my sweet sixteen party when I’m done here at this stupid camp. It’s gonna be freakin’ awesome. My hobbies, I don’t know, I like to play video games and skateboard, sometimes. I play lacrosse for my school, which is kinda cool but kinda sucks sometimes. I don’t know what the hell he means by background, what do you want, my whole life story?” He laughs. “Yeah, right. I’m here because I own the place, basically.” 

“Your parents do,” I correct.

“My mom,” he corrects back. “My dad’s a deadbeat. He’s no Avery.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah,” he says. “So, I’m here because I own it. I’m gonna be a cardio surgeon someday, a super badass one probably. I’ll most likely own a hospital and be chief after that. No big deal.” 

I raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to finish. With every passing breath, I’ve become more and more annoyed. Jackson’s bad attitude trumps his good looks, and suddenly he’s not so cute to me anymore. He’s the most arrogant person I’ve ever come across. 

“Well, I’m Ap-” 

“I’m not done,” he says, looking at me like I’m the rude one. “I was gonna say, what I’m getting out of this is that my mom isn’t making me go to summer school because I come here.” 

I squint. “Your grades are bad enough for summer school?” 

“No,” he says, defensively. “Turning stuff in is stupid. I do it all. I just hate turning it in.” 

“That makes absolutely zero sense.” 

“Right, ‘cause you’re perfect.” 

I scoff. “I turn my work in. If you’ve already done it, what’s the point of just holding onto it?” 

“I don’t give a shit what a teacher has to say about me,” he says. 

I bristle at his choice of language as I cross my arms and clear my throat. “My name is April Kepner,” I say. “I’m from Moline, Ohio. I’m sixteen, too. For fun, I like to knit, sing, and write poetry, when I can. I try to fit in extracurriculars, but I stay busy with studying and early college applications. In the future, I want to be a general surgeon, I think.” 

He scoffs.

“What?” I ask.

“General,” he groans. “Really? Lame.” 

“No, it’s not,” I say, voice rising. “It’s predictable; it has set hours and a dependable schedule. I want something I can live a life around - I don’t want to be at the hospital 24/7. I want to get married and raise a family, two boys and a girl.” 

He quirks his eyebrows. “Seems like you’ve spent plenty of time thinking about that,” he mutters. 

“It’s important to me. And what I’m getting out of this camp-” 

“My camp.” 

“This camp,” I emphasize. “Is being around like-minded people. That’s important to me. And I want to learn as much as I can.” 

“Fascinating,” he grumbles. 

“Thank you.” 

“That was sarcasm.”

“I’m aware.” 

We sit in prickly silence for a moment until Mr. Webber calls our attention again - saying that he hopes we all made a new friend out of this introduction game. 

I cast Jackson a look to find he’s already glaring at me with disdain. I can easily say I know who I won’t be associating with this month. 

\- - - - 

Two weeks pass, and I can truthfully say camp is one of the best experiences I’ve ever had. My bunkmates and I have become best friends - we do everything together. And tonight is no different. We’re lying in the dark, whispering about our days because our counselor has already made the rounds and told us lights out. 

“I can’t wait for the big scavenger hunt next week,” Lexie says, situating below me. “I hope I get a good partner. One of you guys.” 

“Wait, they don’t let you pick?” I ask. 

“I heard from my sister that they pair you up randomly,” Lexie says. 

“Ugh, great,” Arizona says. “I’ll probably get a dud.” 

“Oh, be nice,” Izzie says. “It’ll be fun either way.” 

“Yeah, because you get along with everyone,” Arizona says. 

“I can’t help that I’m a ray of sunshine,” Izzie says, giggling. 

“Yeah, that’s a word for it,” Lexie says, and we all burst into laughter. 

“Today, lunch was so gross,” Arizona says. “I swear I can still taste that meatloaf.” 

“I kinda liked it,” I say. 

“April!” they all chorus, giggling again. 

Interrupting our conversation, a beam of light shines into our window. It’s not our counselor, because she would just come in the front door. Instead, it’s coming from the boys’ cabin to our right. 

“What’s that?” I ask, squinting. 

“Just Alex,” Izzie says. “That’s how he says goodnight to me now. He’s so sweet.” 

“He’s kinda mean,” Lexie says. 

“That’s just his mask,” Izzie says. “To me, he’s a sweetheart.” 

The light shuts off as soon as it came on. One by one, my friends filter out of the conversation and soon I’m left in silence lying on my back in the top bunk, staring at the ceiling and waiting for sleep to come. 

But instead, a light does. 

I groan, flipping over and wishing I could telepathically tell Alex that Izzie already fell asleep. I cover my eyes with one hand, hoping that’ll help, but it doesn’t. There are no curtains on the window, and the light is practically blinding. There’s no way I can fall asleep like this. 

“Izzie,” I hiss, voice cutting through the darkness. “Izzie.” 

No response. They all sleep like the dead. 

“Urgh,” I grumble to myself, swinging my legs down the ladder to descend. I shove my feet into my slippers, pull on a thin robe over my pajamas, and exit our cabin as quietly as I can. 

I follow the light to the source.

“She’s asleep, Alex!” I whisper harshly. 

“What are you doing?” 

The voice I hear isn’t Alex’s, not at all. The light moves, shining directly on me, so I use my hand to act as a visor against it. But in a moment, it shuts off. 

“Who’s there?” I ask. 

“Me,” a voice says. “And nice robe, grandma.” 

I’m blind as my eyes adjust to the pitch darkness from the white light, and bump into someone - torso to torso. I let out a small scream, but a hand covers my mouth. I fight it off, though, and see that it’s Jackson when my eyes finally get used to the darkness. 

“What are you doing?” I ask, tying my robe tighter even though I’m fully clothed underneath. “You’re keeping me up with that stupid light.” 

“I don’t know,” he says, eyes flashing with mischief. 

“Well… please, stop,” I say, arms crossed.

“Why are you so pissed all the time?” he asked.

“I’m not…” I pinch my lips. “ _ Pissed _ . All the time. You just make me that way.” 

“Why?” he asks. “‘Cause you got a crush on me?” 

“Yeah freaking right!” I say, stomping my foot. “Some of us are trying to sleep. So can you please shut that thing off and, I don’t know, go to bed?” 

“I never sleep,” he says. 

“And why’s that?” 

“Don’t need to,” he says. “Remember that when you fall asleep cramming later in life and I’m pulling all-nighters no problem.” 

“Shut up,” I say. “Do you even know how to shut up?” 

“Do you?” 

“Good one.” 

“Whatever.” 

“I’m going to bed!” I say, turning on my heel to bluster away. “Knock it off with the flashlight.” 

With a huff, I retreat to the cabin and hang up my robe, then crawl back into bed. Just as my eyes close, I see the light shining from behind my eyelids and my body fills with a hot rage. 

I bang on the window with a flat palm. “Stop!” I say. 

The door to our cabin comes open almost immediately. “April, I said lights out,” our counselor warns. “Don’t get a second strike.” 

I lower my palm and slam my head back down onto my pillow. I can practically see Jackson’s stupid face laughing at me for getting in trouble. 

\- - - - 

As partners get picked for the scavenger hunt during the third week, I’m crossing my fingers with my eyes pinched shut tight, hoping for one of my friends. 

“Please, please, please, please…” I mutter under my breath.

“April, you’re with… Jackson!” 

“Oh, my god,” I groan, louder than I intended. A few people around me laugh. 

“Have fun, girly,” Izzie says, sarcastically. 

“Yeah, right.” 

I trudge over to where Jackson is standing, holding the scavenger hunt sheet in his hand, folded in two. 

“Hey, partner,” I say.

“You sound like you’re on death row.” 

I shoot him a look. “I basically am.” 

“Same."

“Remember, campers,” Dr. Webber says. “You can’t look at the sheet until you’re on your way. So, on my count. 3.. 2.. 1.. Go!” 

Jackson and I head off to the forest without discussing it first. He unfolds the paper and I peer over his shoulder, feeling the same confusion that shows on his face. 

“This isn’t even surgical stuff,” he says. “This is all nature shit!”

I take the paper from him to study it. “Catch a fish, skip a rock, hang from a low tree branch, hike to the top of a hill, see a squirrel, hear a birdsong, and cross a creek bed without getting wet feet.” I lower the paper. “This is stupid.” 

“First thing we’ve ever agreed on.” 

“What’s the point?” I ask. 

“No damn clue.” 

I sigh, shoulders slumping. “We don’t have a choice,” I say. “Let’s just do it.” 

“I hate this,” he grumbles. “How are we supposed to catch a fish without a fishing pole?”

“Haven’t you ever caught a tadpole?” I ask, then tap my chin. “That’s kind of a fish, right?”

“I have no idea what that is.”

“It’s a baby frog!” I say. “You can catch them with your hands.” 

“ _ You _ can catch them with your hands,” he says, as we near the ravine. “I’m not touching anything.”

I squat down near the edge, rolling my eyes. “You’re a priss,” I say. 

“Shut up,” he says. “No, I’m not.” 

“Pretty little rich boy…” I say, scanning the water for tadpoles. 

“Stop calling me that,” he says, sounding angrier. 

“Geez, touchy,” I say, then finally spot one. “Oh, I see him! I’m gonna get him. Just watch.” I aim with my hands, then dip my palms into the water and come up with a bit of water and a wriggling tadpole. “Look, Jackson!” I say, excitedly.

“Amazing,” he says. “Now, will you put it down? That thing’s gross.”

“Is big bad Jackson Avery afraid of a little tadpole?” I tease, standing up with it still in my hands. “It’s gonna get you!” 

He backs away and falls hard on his butt on the embankment, but not before shoving my hands away so the tadpole lies wriggling in the mud.

“Hey!” I exclaim, then scoop him up and toss him back into the water. 

“You came at me with it,” he says, standing up again. 

“Geez, sorry,” I say. “Where I’m from that’s called having fun.” 

“That’s not fun,” he says, looking at the now-grubby piece of paper. “Now we have to skip a freaking rock.” 

“Find a flat one,” I say, eyes scanning the small shoreline. 

“I know,” he says. “I’m not an idiot.” 

I glare at him, but he proves himself right when he picks up a perfectly flat rock and skips it without mistake across the placid water. 

“That was good,” I say. “How’d you do that? Let me try.” 

I find a suitable rock and bend at the waist, arm trained back to aim, but he stops me before I can throw it. 

“Your form is all wrong,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Like, literally all wrong.” 

I huff. “Help me, then.” 

He looks at me, chewing the inside of his lower lip. 

“Just show me,” I insist. 

“Fine,” he sighs, then comes around behind me and molds my body with his own. He bends my arm back at the correct angle, positions my hand and the way I’m standing, all while I can feel his steady breath on my neck. “There,” he says. 

“Thanks,” I mumble. “Just pull it back, and let it go?” 

“Should work,” he says, hands shoved in his pockets. 

I give it a go, and the rock actually skips a few times. “Hey!” I say. “I did it!” 

“Well, I technically did most of it,” he mutters. “But, whatever. Come on, let’s go. We have to hang from a low tree branch.” 

After plenty of duds, we finally find a tree with a low enough, strong enough branch. Jackson reaches up first, gripping it easily and swinging his legs off the ground to do a pull-up. I watch him, somewhat amazed while trying to hide that I am. 

“Your go,” he says, dusting off his palms. 

I stand under the branch and look at it, daunted. I reach my arms straight up, but not even my fingertips touch. 

“Little help here,” I say.

“Why do you need help with everything?” 

“It doesn’t count if only one of us does it!” 

“Ugh, fine,” he says. “What do you want?”

“Lift me up so I can reach,” I say, wiggling my fingers. “I’m too short.” 

“You’re too damn little in general,” he says. “But what, by your waist? Like, how?” 

“Haven’t you ever picked someone up before?” I ask, recalling all the times I’ve roughhoused with my sisters and done this exact same thing for them. It’s part of growing up, at least it was for me. 

“No,” he says. “Why would I?” 

“I don’t know,” I say, wondering why he didn’t have a childhood like mine. “But yeah, by my waist. And just lift.” 

When his arms solidify around my middle, he’s stronger than I imagined. He only holds me for a second, but while he does electricity shoots to every nerve ending I have. I tense because of it. 

“Y’alright?” he asks, noticing. 

“I’m fine,” I say, fingers tightening around the branch. “You can let go.” 

But do I really want him to? 

Yes. Yes, I do. 

We hike to the top of a hill, see a squirrel, hear a birdsong, and only have one more item left on the list. We’re exhausted, but almost there. And we haven’t seen a single other pair along the way, which means we must be ahead. 

“I think we’re gonna win,” I say, as we approach the faster-flowing creek. “We just have to cross this thing without getting wet.”

I stare at it, arms crossed, tracking the quick current. I look down at my shoes - flip-flops - and know I made a mistake. But I’m determined to try. 

Jackson stands on a rock just inside the creek, tennis shoes gripping it with ease. But when I set my foot down, I slip from side to side as the moss has nothing to grip on the bottom of my shoe. 

“I can’t do it,” I say, feeling disheartened and defeated. 

I feel like I might cry. We’ve come this far, and I can’t do the very last thing. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” I say. “I’m gonna fall and I don’t want to and we’re gonna lose and we’ve come all this way and I ruined it and-” 

“Stop,” he says, arms straight out. “Please, stop. Just…” He sighs, leaning forward a bit after he steps off the rock. “Get on.” 

“What?” I say, tearfully.

“Get on my back,” he says. “I’ll take us across.” 

“You’ll fall,” I say, sniffling. 

“No, I won’t,” he says. “Come on. Just get up. I wanna finish this stupid thing.” 

I wipe my nose with the back of my hand, then plant my grip on his shoulders. He extends his arms out behind him so I can hop up, and he holds my weight easily. 

“Good grip?” he asks.

“I… uh, yeah,” I say, tightening my thighs subconsciously when he steps on the first rock. “You got it?” 

“Everything’s great,” he says. 

We make it across the creek in one piece, and the finish line is in sight.

“There it is!” I shriek, and he doesn’t let me down before barreling towards it. I hold onto his shoulders for dear life, eyes wide open as my hair flies behind me, a wild grin on my face. 

We break through the ribbon and run through to the other side, laughing gleefully. I hop off his back and he picks me up again, twirling me around by the waist. 

“We did it!” I say, when he lets me down. “We did it. You and me, together. We won!” 

“We won,” he says, breathless.

I don’t know what comes over me. But in one swoop, I plant my hands on either side of his face and start kissing him with everything I have. I’ve never kissed anyone before - he is my first - but it doesn’t feel weird or unnatural in the slightest. 

When we pull apart, I’m sure the shocked look in my eyes matches his. I can’t catch my breath; I’m panting as his arms are locked low on my waist. 

“Was that-” I begin, but he cuts me off with another kiss. 

And this time, he leads it. With this mouth moving against mine, he pulls my torso close and rests his forehead against mine. He smells like the outdoors, which I find comforting, and his body is warm and inviting. I’ve never felt this way about a boy before - no less, a boy I thought I hated. 

Interrupting us, a slew of voices come from the forest we just emerged from. We break away from each other in a hurry, standing an awkward distance apart.

“Kepner and Avery beat us to it!” Alex bellows, throwing his head back dramatically. Lexie slumps behind him, looking equally as downtrodden. 

Jackson and I exchange a glance, and without words we agree on something. 

The kisses never happened. 

**JACKSON**

**-12 YEARS LATER, FALL-**

Everyone else in my transfer group is nervous as we walk into the hospital with its glass panes and modern exterior, but not me. I don’t know a single person walking alongside me, we’ve all come here from different parts of the US to continue our residencies, no one from the same region. 

My family’s foundation has expressed interest in buying this hospital, Grey Sloan. So, I was sent here to make the first footprint and test the waters, in a way. It has a good reputation, but my mother wanted more of an up close and personal feel. 

In other words, I’m her guinea pig. 

We meet a short woman at the main doors, who introduces herself as Dr. Miranda Bailey. 

“Welcome, transfers,” she says. “I hope you’ll find a home here at Grey Sloan. All of us have been anxious to meet you, and we’ll do our best at welcoming you and making you feel comfortable.” 

As she talks, I observe my surroundings. There are doctors in both light blue and dark blue scrubs walking through the halls holding tablets, looking focused. My guess, judging by looks and age, is that residents wear light blue and attendings dark blue. 

The boards are coming up soon. In fact, I should be studying right now. It won’t be long until I wear dark blue myself. 

“I’d like to introduce you to our crop of residents that have grown up at this hospital,” Dr. Bailey continues. “They started out here as interns and will hopefully become attendings very soon.” She opens her arm to a group of five people. “Right here, we have Ben Warren, Stephanie Edwards, Cristina Yang, Shane Ross and April Kepner.” 

My eyes center on the last person introduced. She’s mid-height with shiny red hair, an eager smile on her face. Something about her strikes me as familiar, but I can’t put my finger on what. But I feel like we’ve met before. 

But that’s impossible. I moved here from Boston, which is literally across the nation. There’s no way we’ve ever run in the same circles. 

“I’m going to pair you each up with a Grey Sloan resident,” Dr. Bailey says. “That way, you’ll become familiar with how we run the hospital and you’ll have a set-in study buddy for the boards. We train strong doctors here, and we don’t want anyone left behind.” 

I sigh, just quiet enough so no one hears. Pairing us up like we’re incapable of figuring this out on our own is juvenile. We’re adults. If one of the new people can’t keep their head above water, they deserve to sink. 

Dr. Bailey goes through the line of transfers until she gets to me. “Jackson Avery,” she says, drawing out my name. The look in her eyes tells me she knows the reason I’m here. “You’re with Kepner.” 

I look away from the attending and towards the redhead, who’s now wearing a disconcerted expression on her face.

“Uh, excuse me, um… Dr. Bailey?” she asks, in a voice that’s much too high. “Are you sure?”

Dr. Bailey turns her head quickly to glare at the woman over her shoulder. “Is there a problem, Kepner?”

“No, ma’am,” Kepner says, eyes on the floor. 

“Get together with your partners,” Bailey says to her residents. “Show them around, and study together. I’m not scheduling any of you on surgeries until the boards are over. I want your minds on one thing and one thing only - passing.” 

The group breaks apart and I maneuver my way through to Kepner. She’s standing off to the side, chewing her lip worriedly, eyes barely landing on me as I get near her. 

“Hey,” I say, extending my hand. “Nice to meet you. Jackson Avery.” 

Her eyebrows twitch so subtly I barely notice. “I know,” she murmurs. 

Obviously, she knows. Not only did Bailey just say it, but my face and name are not uncommon in surgical circles. And when I’m an attending, they’ll be even more common.

“And you’re… Kepner?” 

“April,” she corrects. “Call me April.” 

I study her face. There’s something about it that’s so familiar, and it’s on the tip of my tongue. I brush it off, though, and hope it’ll come to me as the day goes on. 

“So, show me around,” I say, hands on my hips.

She clears her throat and sets the clipboard she’d been clutching on a nearby counter. “Okay,” she says. 

“And speak up,” I say. “Can barely hear you.” 

She clears her throat again and retries. “Okay,” she says. “This is the main floor, where the ER is located and where general is based. The pit is right through this hallway, where the traumas come in. I spend a lot of my time there.” 

“Where’s plastics?” I ask. 

“Oh,” she says. “Fourth floor.” 

“That’s what I wanna see,” I say. “How good is your program here?”

“Um, world-renowned,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. “We get cases from all over the world. People seek out Grey Sloan for their most complicated procedures, and we have over a 90% success rate. Patients are very satisfied.” 

“Outstanding,” I say, pressing the button for the elevator. “I’d love to see it, and meet the head of the department. I need to get solidified with a mentor.”

Creases appear on her forehead as the elevator doors close in front of us. “Um, Dr. Sloan already has a protege,” she says. “And he’s not looking for anyone else. He’s said that multiple times.” 

“We’ll see,” I say, adjusting my collar. 

The small space stays quiet as we ascend four floors, with April and I standing an awkward distance apart. Her hands are shoved into her pockets with her shoulders hunched by her ears; she couldn’t look more uncomfortable if she tried. 

I roll my eyes and forget about it, though. It’s not my job to make her feel comfortable, those roles are supposed to be reversed. And she’s not doing that great. 

She gives me a tour of the plastics floor and I’m very intrigued by what I see. They have all the latest technology, up to date with everything. The layout is modern and inviting, the doctors are professional, yet warm. I find myself hopeful after the tour is over, except for that the redheaded thorn in my side is still acting as weird as ever. 

“Don’t take offense,” I say, as we walk down the main staircase together. “But you need to work on your people skills. If your bedside manner is this poor, then patients aren’t going to want to see you. Especially in general.” 

“I don’t work in general,” she says, sounding frustrated. “I’m in trauma.” 

“Same thing,” I say. “Either way, your people skills suck.” 

“That’s incredibly rude,” she says, and I notice her fists clench at her sides. I pissed her off. I’m not upset about it, though; I’m glad I got some sort of reaction. I was tired of the timid mouse bit she had going on. “You-you barely know me.” 

“I don’t know you at all,” I say. “And that makes my observation even more reliable. If I were a patient and you interacted with me the way you did half the day, I wouldn’t keep you.” 

“For your information,” she says. “I don’t interact with patients like that. I’m very good with them, I’ve actually been labeled one of the best. I have amazing people skills. I’m kind, caring, and attentive. I know what they need before they do. So, please, don’t go assuming things about me when you’ve been at this hospital for all of four hours.” 

“So, you’re saying you only act this way around me?” I ask. “The shy, soft-spoken, spineless crap. That’s all for me?”

Her lips pinch. “You think highly of yourself,” she says. 

“With due right.” 

She scoffs. 

“You don’t like me,” I say.

Her eyes roam my face and I can tell by her expression she has something to say, but it’s stuck. 

“Come on,” I say. “Just say it. I can take it. I guarantee I’ve heard worse, and your words won’t hurt me. In fact, I probably won’t even remember them come tonight.” 

She shakes her head. “You are unbelievable,” she says. 

I laugh sardonically. “What about me bothers you so much?”

“Nothing,” she says, blinking hard. “I’m fine. I am… fine with you.” She takes a deep breath, probably in attempt to clear her head. “And like Dr. Bailey said, no one should get left behind. Not even you. So, we’re going to have a study session tonight, at my house.” 

“Says who?” I ask.

“Me,” she replies. “You need to learn the way we learn. Because everyone needs to pass their boards - if one person fails, that’s on all of us. And I’m not going to let it be you, because then the blame will fall to me. And that can’t happen.” She sighs. “The mock boards are tomorrow. We don’t have time to waste.” 

I raise my eyebrows and nod. “Alright, sure then. I guess. Tonight, your place.” I dig out my phone from my pocket and hand it to her. “Plug in your address. I’ll be there at 7.” 

\- - - - 

April’s house is small and quaint on the outside, and as I pull up I’m sure it’s the same on the inside. Lights are on and I see April’s silhouette moving behind the curtains, then her face appears in the window to the side of the door. 

I put my car in park and lock it up, tossing my keys as I make my way up the front path. She opens the door before I get to it, a forced smile on her face. 

“You made it,” she says. 

“Yep.” 

She opens the door wider and welcomes me inside. “I have snacks in the kitchen,” she says, turning around as she leads me there. “But, oh. Shoes, please.” 

With a slight sigh, I kick my shoes off by the door. 

Her place is cute. It’s decorated neatly, not too much and not too little. Like everything has its place. 

“You live alone?” I ask.

She makes quick eye contact as she takes a vegetable tray out of the fridge. “Yeah,” she says. “It tends to work better like this.” 

I take a celery stick and crunch on it, and she busies herself with finding drinks. 

“Are you thirsty?” she asks. “I have water, tea, wine, beer…” 

“Beer’s good,” I say. 

She slides one across the counter and I pop it open, taking a long swig. 

“I ordered a pizza,” she says. “Should be here soon. I didn’t know what you liked, so-”

“I’m down for anything.”

“Okay.” 

An awkward silence passes and I take another sip of beer to give myself something to do. She just stands there in the middle of the kitchen, wringing her hands and looking like she has no idea where to put herself. 

“So… should we start?” she asks. “All my stuff is in the living room.” 

“Sure, why not,” I say, hopping off the stool I’d been sitting on.

We both sit on her brown couch and I set my beer on the coffee table. As she reaches for the notecards, she slips a coaster under it and I resist the heavy urge to roll my eyes. 

The pizza comes while we’re in the middle of studying case files. Case files that I have no idea how she got her hands on, but I’m not complaining. I find out that she’s actually a good partner; she’s thorough, organized, and never has a problem with going back over something if I get it wrong. She’s patient. No one’s ever been so patient with me before. 

As I finish my second piece of pizza, I get a question right that I’d been struggling with up until this point. 

“You did it!” she cheers, giggling as she lowers her arms from their victory position.

Then, suddenly, it hits me. I remember where I know her from. She’s April Kepner, the annoying redhead from surgical camp I met the last year I went. We hated each other and kissed when we were sixteen.

“Oh, my god,” I say, pointing in her direction. 

“What?” she says, wiping her mouth. “Do I have something on my face?”

“I know where I know you from,” I say. “You’re April freaking Kepner from surgical camp.” 

The color drains from her face. Then, in an equally quick moment, it floods back in a heady blush. “I… I…” 

“I’ve been trying to place it all day,” I say. “I knew I met you before. You probably don’t remember me, but-” 

She rolls her eyes.

“What?” I say. 

“Just because you’re too caught up in your own head to remember me doesn’t mean I’m the same,” she retorts. “I knew who you were the minute I saw you.” 

“You did?” 

“Of course I did!” she says. “Because I think about things other than myself.” 

“Whoa,” I say. “Back off, you don’t even know me.” 

“But I did at one point,” she says. “And you knew me at one point, too-” 

“A long time ago,” I say. “And only for a month. So, don’t-” 

“A month where we saw each other every damn day.” 

“I have a busy life. How the hell am I supposed to remember everyone I’ve ever come in contact with? Listen to yourself, you sound nuts.” 

“I do not sound nuts,” she says. “That summer meant something to me. I remembered you.” 

“I’m not saying it didn’t mean something-”

“You forgot about me,” she says. “Obviously, it didn’t mean much.” 

“You’re putting words in my mouth now,” I say, chuckling uncomfortably. “I just couldn’t place your face. It’s not a big deal. Damn, you haven’t changed a bit, have you? You’re so high strung, do you ever pause to take a breath? Your blood pressure must be out of this world.” 

“Don’t make fun of me,” she says. “You’re turning this around. I was trying to think of ways to tell you all day, but I couldn’t. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t. I wanted you to remember on your own, and you didn’t. It hurt me, Jackson!” 

“What, you wanted me to read your mind, or something? If somebody acts weird, it’s not my job to be their therapist. So, sorry I couldn’t come through for you after like, ten freaking years.”

“Twelve,” she says “It’s been twelve. And I’m really happy you can compartmentalize so well to forget me, or you know what… it doesn’t surprise me at all. I’m sure I was just another kiss to you, but it wasn’t like that for me. Okay? You were my first kiss. And I can’t just forget about that. Well, I mean, it’s not like I thought about it every day. But when I saw you… it all came back.” 

“I don’t know what you want me to say!” I bellow. 

“I don’t know, either!” she shouts back.

Her face is flushed and her hair is pulling out of its bun in flyaways around her face. I study her face and its similarities and differences to how I remember it - she’s prettier now, that’s for sure. Her freckles, while still sporadic, have faded considerably and she grew into her eyes. It looks like she learned how to use a brush, and her skin has cleared up. She’s a woman now. 

My heart beats fast in my chest as my eyes dart to her lips. I remember kissing her - it hadn’t been fluid or graceful by any means, but it had made me feel a lot of things. Impulsive being one of those things, and I’m experiencing that same feeling right now. 

I push the pizza box and our study items to the floor and kiss her, holding the sides of her face as she kisses me back with everything she has. I open my mouth against hers and grapple with her body, positioning her underneath me clumsily, and she follows my lead. 

Her mouth tastes like pizza with the sweetness of pop underneath, and I like it. When she sighs and wraps her arms around my neck, I melt further into her and trail my lips down her jaw and lower to her neck. 

Her skin is smooth like butter; I glide my tongue over it and listen to her moan. I shut off my mind and let my body do the talking; my hands sneak up the front of her shirt to hold her waist as she tips her chin further, begging me to keep at her neck. 

I feel her hips writhe under mine, where my penis is inevitably growing hard. I draw a line of kisses from her throat to the V in her t-shirt, where I spend time on her sternum and higher on her collarbones, opening my mouth to run my tongue over her flawless skin. 

She pulls my shirt off from the back, throwing it to the side once she gets it over my head. With her hands mapping over my spine and shoulder blades, I get goosebumps and have the urge to get her in the same state of undress. I position myself lower, my head just above the waist of her jeans, and kiss the soft skin of her belly as I lift her shirt. 

She sits up and helps me get it off, and I take a moment to look at her. She’s wearing a light pink bra with tiny lace scallops on the cups and a bow in the middle, the swells of her breasts spilling over the top with the way she’s lying. 

“Do you have a bedroom?” I ask. 

“Yeah,” she says, and moves to get up off the couch, but I stop her from walking. Instead, I lift her over my shoulder and earn myself a loud shriek because of it. 

I carry her down the hallway, find her bedroom easily, and lay her down on the bed as gently as I can. While I work on getting out of my pants, she sheds hers, and we find each other under the covers that she pulls back, just in our underthings. 

April doesn’t talk, and neither do I. We don’t need to. I can’t think of a single thing to say that my actions can’t speak for me. 

She situates herself on top of me, hands on my chest while she grinds her hips against my lower torso. I’m fully hard now, getting more turned on by the minute as she takes control and shoves the timidness from earlier aside. I’ve come to realize that she’s not only pretty, but she’s really freaking hot. 

I keep my hands on her hips, urging her along as she dry-humps me. When she bends at the waist to kiss me, I wrap my arms around her back as she continues to move, reaching lower to stretch my fingers out over her ass. She whimpers into my mouth, sits up a bit, then reaches to take her bra off.

I get her on her back, palming her bare breasts immediately. They’re not too big and not too small, the perfect size for me to get my mouth on. I suck on her nipple while pinching the other softly between my thumb and first finger, and she wraps her legs around me tight. I can feel the heat emanating from her core - it’s not subtle anymore. We need to fuck. 

But I can’t take my mouth from her breast yet. Her skin is soft and pliable, warm and sweet. I can’t get enough of her. I want to take every inch of her and keep it somewhere safe.

Eventually, we’re both ready though. The damp patch on her underwear tells me that much. She lifts her hips so I can get her underwear off, and I throw them to the side hastily without caring where they end up. I just need to be inside her.

I run my hands up her thighs, eyes locked between her legs. I’m so hard that it’s starting to hurt, and she’s so wet her skin is glistening. 

“I’m not a virgin,” she says, words tumbling out in a harsh whisper. “You don’t have to go slow.” 

I smile, one side of my lips pulling up. “In that case,” I say. “Flip over.” 

She lies on her stomach and I part her thighs, patting her ass a couple times before slipping inside her. My eyes roll back from how tight she is, and I fall forward to cover her body with my own completely, my hips keeping a steady rhythm as she moans and whines beneath me. 

When I see her hands gripping the comforter for support, I can’t help but smirk. I’m proud of what I’m able to do to her, what I’m able to reduce her to. I know, right now, her mind is mush just like mine is. And I have no complaints. 

I kiss her back between her shoulder blades as I thrust, and she lifts her pelvis to meet mine. As I feel myself getting closer, I pull out and draw a haphazard line of kisses down her spine. 

“Turn over,” I say. 

She obeys. 

“I wanna see you,” I tell her, and yank her thighs apart to re-enter her body. 

When I push inside her, her back arches and I overlap her again. Her tongue slips into my mouth as we kiss, sloppy and rushed, and I can taste the sweat on her skin when I move lower to her throat. Listening to the sounds she’s making, I feel myself getting closer and closer, and with each passing moment my orgasm nears. She’s so responsive, so vocal, I can tell it’s going to be a powerful one. 

I’m not wrong. I lose my rhythm as the muscles in my groin tighten and release, shoving my hips against hers at full force. Her mouth falls open as I come, grappling for something to hold onto and finding my face to pull it aggressively towards hers so she can kiss me while I’m coming down. 

I pull out, fully aware that she hasn’t come yet, and tuck my face between her thighs. She’s already pulsating, so close, and all I have to do is hold her legs apart and suck on her clit, and that does it. Her legs tighten around my head and her back lifts from the mattress, pelvis moving of its own accord without any control. 

I crawl up her body as she lies flat and breathless, kissing my way from her bellybutton to her chin. She holds my face between her palms and kisses me roughly, then as we breathe the kisses become tamer and she wraps her legs around me to keep me close.

We have sex three more times that night, sleeping sporadically in between. In the morning, I wake up to find both of us naked, her body halfway on top of mine. 

She wakes up around the same time, too. We blink into each other’s eyes, still feeling the effects of what we did, but not knowing what to say now. I have no words in my head, and by the look in her eyes I can see she doesn’t, either. 

Disjointedly, she untangles her body from mine and lifts the sheet to cover her chest. I’m not sure why, seeing as I was all over that and plenty of other things last night, but now the moment has disappeared. The air has changed. The sun is up, and our scruples have returned. 

“Should get ready for work,” she mumbles, so quietly I almost can’t hear.

“Right,” I say, sliding out of bed unabashedly naked as I search for my clothes. I know my shirt is in the living room, so with my boxers and jeans on, I say, “See you at the hospital.” 

She pulls on a robe, but I catch a glimpse of her back and ass before she does. I can’t help but let my eyes linger. 

“See you there,” she says, tying it tighter. 

I leave her house and head to my car, wondering what the hell we let happen. 

\- - - -

There’s a special designated room for the residents to take their mock boards at the hospital, and most of us are sitting inside it, waiting for Dr. Bailey who will pretend to be the proctor. There’s an empty seat next to me, one I know April is supposed to be in, but I have no idea where she is. 

I set my pencil down. There are a few more minutes until the mock exam begins, and I need to find out what’s going. She’ll die if she misses it, I know that for a fact. It might not be the real one, but the results are a telltale sign of who will do well and who needs to put in more study hours. 

I leave the exam room and run almost directly into April as she paces the hallway. 

“What are you doing?” I ask. “The test starts in like, three minutes. You need to get in there.”

“I can’t,” she says, fingers on her temples. 

“What do you mean, you can’t?” I say.

“Just go away!” she says, waving one arm. Now, she’s crying. I can see the tears streaming down her cheeks. 

I sigh, not moving from my spot. “April,” I say. 

“What?” she says, voice higher with tears. 

“You’re gonna be great,” I say, and I mean it. It feels strange to be saying something genuine, something heartfelt, but I let myself do it. I don’t know why, but with her it feels okay. It feels natural. “You’ve always been great.” 

“You didn’t even remember who I was,” she says, wiping her eyes. “You can’t remember if I was great.” 

“My stupid memory just needed a jog,” I say. “I remember now. You bunked with Lexie, Izzie and Arizona. Alex would shine his flashlight into your guys’ cabin at night, but then I’d do it to piss you off.” I laugh. “I really liked making you mad.” 

“You’re so annoying,” she sniffles.

“But I remember,” I say. “I remember we went on that scavenger hunt together and you caught a tadpole, and… we hung from a stupid branch, and I carried you across the stream. Remember? And we won?” 

“And I kissed you.” 

“And I kissed  _ you _ ,” I say. 

“You were my first kiss,” she mumbles. 

“I remember,” I say. “You were great then and you’re great now.” 

“You really think so?” she asks. 

I nod. “And,” I say. “If it helps, you’re also really fuckin’ great in bed.” 

Her face flames, turning a brilliant tomato red. “Keep your mouth shut,” she says, through gritted teeth. 

I laugh and take her arm. “Come on,” I say. “Let’s go in.” 


End file.
